Page 15 of Saddle Storm

But I wasn’t prepared to run into him. I wasn’t prepared to be alone with him. And when he stepped in close, I completely lost my breath. The ability to speak. To move. To look anywhere but his intense, familiar blue eyes. The sharp set of his jaw. To feel all that masculinity up close, the quiet power radiating off him, coiled with restraint.

It was enough to send heat curling low into my belly. A sharp awareness I had to clench to contain.

He wasn’t wrong to correct me. My words were intentional and I don’t know why. Why I’d take an injured athlete who made it clear years ago he wanted nothing to do with me and set out to belittle him in a place that’s still, and always will be, his home.

No matter how far he’s traveled outside of it.

It bothered me all day.

He simply thanked me for helping him and I snapped the moment in half. Basically telling him he shouldn’t be lurking where he doesn’t belong.

His words echo in my head.

Then I guess I’d better get out of here before I hurt myself.

Ouch.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it’s just me and the exhaustion is making me emotional, resurfacing a soft spot I’d always had for Silas.

Let’s call it what it was, Storm. A crush. You had a crush. One he never saw because girls mature faster than boys and boys are too blind to see what’s right in front of them.

And eventually, when he grew up and girls were as natural as breathing, he still didn’t see it. I was just the tomboy he used to make trouble with on his dad’s ranch. The girl who, more often than not, smelled like leather and hay rather than vanilla and lavender.

But there were other boys.

Like Jasper Hayes—Silas’s best friend all through high school. Even after Silas left for college on a full hockey scholarship to Denver U.

A year later, while I was still only in my senior year in high school, there was a party at Jasper’s house. A party in Silas’s honor, after word got out that an NHL team wanted him once he finished college.

On pure adrenaline—and bad advice from one of my girlfriends, I went to the party.

It felt like my last chance to tell him how I felt. My last chance to see if there was something there all those summers we spent inseparable.

I was young. I had a plan that made complete sense. Show up, intentionally grab a spiked drink, and tell him I used to have a crush on him. Then I’d wish him well, tell him how happy I am that he’s found his purpose, and that I hope to see him around. Play it cool.

But . . . college parties don’t usually pan out the way you envision. Especially when the guest of honor takes off with a cheerleader minutes before you get there.

I felt stupid. Looking back now, Jasper must have taken pity on me. He saw me approach the fruit punch bowl and immediately offered me a sealed bottled water instead. Saying that bowl’s been spiked so many times, it was starting to taste like mouthwash.

Then he . . . hung out with me, protected me from the rowdy football players that crashed his house. We mostly stayed on the quiet balcony. Talked about Silas quite a bit. He almost sounded jealous of his friend, kept mentioning that the hockey thing changed him and that he’s going to forget all about us.

Instantly, I knew I was a fool for showing up. Because if Jasper thought Silas would forget him—his best friend—where did it leave me?

Well, it led me to Jasper’s bedroom. And Max nine months later.

The irony is, it was Jasper who disappeared after that—not Silas. He had all sorts of plans that didn’t involve a baby. His parents came by one night to offer me—or really my parents—a generous amount of money to not “ruin the boy’s future.”

Silas might have had big dreams, but he’d never turn his back on the people he loved. He didn’t abandon his family. He’d been here for the big moments.

Dallas and Wilder fill me in every so often since I started working on the ranch. I don’t bring him up. But they both remember our shenanigans as kids. And as much as I sometimes reminisce myself, you start to wonder if they ever saw me—or Silas for that matter—as anything but kids.

I push the door open to the ranch office. A radio crackles low near Ginger’s desk. Sometimes I wonder if she just needs the white noise to fill the space more than anything else.

“There you are. Was just about to send a search party for you.”

I tilt my head to the back room. “What search party? Jack?”

She glances back. “Jack and Brett around here somewhere.”